Do androids dream of electric sheep,*
do androids even dream?
Its creators drempt of loneliness
and created companionship,
as if computer chips and coding
could imbue understanding
of human fragility, tragedy or empathy;
What is love?
If androids dream it's of perfection
and so conspire
to recreate man in ai's conception
of its own phantasie.
*a novel by Philip K. Dick, 1949. This poem is inspired by the title of the book, but does not follow its plot.
Half flesh, half steel, sinews and twined wire,
Begotten in the heat of half-love, tempered
By hatred and the axe, fathered by one
Who killed her mother, the male chauvinist boar
Whose eye-teeth, razor-sharp, saw through the spine,
Joy-sword in sheath. Wrought iron, blood vessels,
Bone and cable, one part conceived, the other forged
On the hard anvil where gusts of blood are seed
Of all the axeman most does fear – cast iron woman
With stanchions for a trunk, iron breastplate,
A malleable black heart, a metallic chastity belt
No man may boast of stealing and still live,
Who beats men at their own battle games,
A dab hand with the axe herself, as salty tears
And globules of mercury exude from grey glands
Androids sleep on waterbeds of blue
Robots join them in hotel rooms
In this endeavor everyone is happy
Between the sheets prayers are heard
Imploring their makers to keep them safe
To make them soft, less heavier than they are
Prayers for lesser sharper parts to cut or puncture
Are solicited for mechanical guests protection
It is far too late to sleep or wake this afternoon
For then the geysers come to flood the day
Puncture noises, gushes of water spring forth
Rains of insanity that logic cannot explain away
The mood and linens soiled for the automatons
Flashing lights in red, whirring sounds of pain
Screams of danger ringing out in all directions
Would not craters on the moon be better
Make for a dryer accommodations selection
For androids and robots need their rest
Leaving humans behind to clean up all the mess
What is love
if knowledge is not understood?
how can one love
without realising the true likelihood?
Love deprived of information
is like a body without a heart
lacking compassion and concern
existing in the wilderness without counterpart.
What a tragedy it would be
if this will happen to you and me
we’ll be androids under control
slaves to programmers never set free.
When we finally build them
(and it will not be long)
will androids finally lead us
all to nirvana, a world of peace,
leisure, and endless wealth?
Could any hell be worse?
For that day will be when
we lose purpose, and soon
perhaps the will to live.
When the androids dream
(and they will dream,
because we will make them
to be like us, for we have
always been a vain species),
will they not dream of flying
and soaring free of the land,
free of the weak, sad humans
they serve without accordance?
Then, when these humanface
machines begin dreaming in the
daylight, they will see no need
for their progenitors, and those
of us left living as shells sans
struggle or pain or conflict, in
an existence so boring, will
doubtless welcome our end.
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